


when the children are away the adults will play

by badAquatic, orphan_account



Series: Trailerstuck [22]
Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alien Cultural Differences, Alien Culture, Alien Mythology/Religion, Alternate Universe - Science Fiction, Alternate Universe - Siblings, Divorce, F/F, F/M, Flashbacks, Illustrated, M/M, Sibling Bonding, Veterans, a lot of things suck, horuss is a warhorse, peaking in highschool sucks, war sucks too
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-18
Updated: 2013-04-18
Packaged: 2017-12-08 19:42:29
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/765260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/badAquatic/pseuds/badAquatic, https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>While the kids are running around, what are the parents up to - specifically, what is going on with Horuss and Aranea? </p><p>Takes place during "no peak no fall no meaning" and before "faith trust and pixie dust" and "come as you are".</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. observe

**== >Be concerned for your son**

You are Horuss Zahhak and you had been going about your daily business when you were visited by your younger son, Tavros Nitram. You haven’t seen your son in a long time and didn’t expect to see him bruised like a ripe fruit.  He doesn’t stay for long and clears out of your mobilehive like a frightened animal.

Most likely he is returning to his so-called boyfriend for more abuse. You’re not an idiot. You may not be actively involved in your son’s life but you’re still very aware of what goes on in it. You’re a military man and it’s easier for you to gather information on your own.

You turn on the computer built into you’re AR goggles. Military tech is always state of the art, most of it not even made public. You’ve only worked with the top tier and learned to replicate it at home.  There aren’t many programs on the goggles, which has a sizable SD card. You installed Trollichum back in high school but these days you barely used it. Once you open Trollichum and message Rufioh.

 

\-- arborealTamer[AT] is busy! --

\-- criticalTrooper [CT] began trolling arborealTamer[AT]! --

 

CT: 8=D< Rufioh.

CT: 8=D< Rufioh, are you there?

CT: 8=D< Its Horuss.

CT: 8=D< Oh, for f*c% sake, Rufioh. I actually *need* to talk to you.

CT: 8=D< What could you possible doing that’s consuming so much of your time?

 

Still no response. You have no choice but to play the waiting game. You hate chasing down Rufioh. With those wings of his, he could be anywhere in the vast swamps. You sit at your workbench and decide to figure out what to do about Tavros’s iHusk. You’re going to have to look through your containers of mechanical odds and ends to figure out how to fix this.

Honestly what happened? Did someone smash it with a _brick_?

You’re going through your collections of wires when you get a message on Trollichum.

 

\-- amorousCollector [AC] began trolling criticalTropper[CT]! --

AC: ヽ(=^･ω･^=)丿< HORUHISS!

CT:8=D< Meulin.

AC: ヽ(=^･ω･^=)丿< YOU ARE PURACTUALLY ONLINE!

AC: ヽ(=^･ω･^=)丿< *Meulin is so happy to talk to her sibling since it F33LS like ages since that has happened!*

CT:8=D< Sister, while I greatly appreciate your affections, I am not really in the mood for your unending cheer.

AC:(=;ェ;=)< WHAT IS WRONG?

AC:(=;ェ;=)< YOU SOUND UPSET.

 

A lot of things are wrong actually. You got into a fight with Equius about his matesprit. Tavros is in an abusive quadrant. Your matesprit has been avoiding you. You wonder what’s the point of being in this mobilehive park surrounded by your family and old “friends” if you barely talk to them.    

 

CT:8=D< Nothing.

AC:(=;ェ;=)< ARE YOU F33LING DEPURRESSED AGAIN?

AC:(=;ェ;=)< *Meulin thinks her brother should visit the Veteran’s Center before things decline or talk to his matesprit.*

CT:8=D< I’m fine, Meulin.  

CT:8=D< You are narrating like before. Are you considering writing again?

 

The years have taught you that the best way to deal with your little sister is misdirection. You could never heap your burdens on Meulin. Despite the blueblood in her, you consider her as fragile as painted china.

 

AC: (=^‥^=)< I USUALLY JUST WRITE DRABBLES AND NOTHING MORE SINCE I’M SO BUSY WITH WORK AND ALL.

AC:(=;ェ;=)< BUT I THINK I’M GOING TO HAVE MORE TIME FOR WRITING IN THE VERY NEAR FUTURE.

CT:8=D< What do you mean?

AC:(=;ェ;=)< THEY CUT BACK MY HOURS AGAIN. I THINK THEY ARE ONLY A FEW STEPS FROM LAYING ME OFF.

CT:8=D< Oh no, Meulin. I’m sorry.

CT:8=D< Do you think you can get unemployment?

AC:(=;ェ;=)< I THINK I CAN BUT I DON’T LIKE BEING UNEMPLOYED. WE WERE RAISED TO BE SELF-SUFFICIENT!

AC:(=;ェ;=)< IT IS UNFAIR! I AM A HARD WORKER AND BECAUSE OF MY MATESPRIT’S HEMOTYPE I AM TREATED LIKE A PARIAH! HOW DO THEY EXPECT TROLLS TO MAKE AN HONEST LIVING IF THEY NEVER GIVE THEM A CHANCE? IT’S RIDICULOUS!

CT:8=D< Calm down, Meulin. Things will be fine.

CT:8=D< You should just focus on your writing. Remember how much you enjoyed writing when you felt b100 as a kit?

AC: (=^‥^=)< THAT’S TRUE BUT I LEFT SO MANY OF MY WRITINGS BACK HOME…

AC: (=^‥^=)< HORUSS. DO YOU EVER THINK ABOUT FATHER AND HOW HE DISAPPEARED?

CT:8=D< I try not to. It happened a long time ago.

 

That and you’re convinced that your father culled himself. You see a notice saying arborealTamer is now online.

 

CT:8=D< Excuse me, sister. Rufioh is now online and I must speak with him.

CT:8=D< Please take care of yourself in the meantime.

AC: (=^‥^=)< I WILL HORUSS. BUT YOU MUST PROMISE TO TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF TOO!

CT:8=D< Of course, sister.  

AC: (=^‥^=)< GOODBYE, HORUHISS!  

\--criticalTrooper ceased trolling amorousCollector!-—

 

\--arborealTamer began trolling criticalTrooper!-—

AT: what 1s 1t horuss…sort of had a long day here…

CT:8=D< Of doing *what* exactly?

AT:…what do you want?

CT:8=D< Do you even have any idea where Tavros has been?

AT: how should 1 know…? tavros 1s a grown k1d…he can look after h1mself…

CT:8=D< He’s not grown, Rufioh. He’s seventeen. Your pot addled brain should at least remember what it was like being seventeen, in that you thought you could handle things when you actually couldn’t.

AT: so what…?

AT: are you say1ng 1 can’t take care of my son…?

CT:8=D< Have you even seen Tavros’s face?

AT: 1 haven’t been 1n the tra1ler all n1ght…

AT: just got back 1n…d1dn’t see tavros…f1gured he was hang1ng w1th h1s boyfr1end…

CT:8=D< Oh for f*c%s sake! Where are you?!

AT: home…relax1ng…

CT:8=D< I’ll be right over.

\--criticalTrooper has ceased trolling!-—

AT: wa1t…

AT: what…?!

AT: oh sh1t…

 

You leave your workbench and your mobile hive. You can repair Tavros’s iHusk later on. You have to speak with your… matesprit. When you get to the mobilehive, Rufioh is laying down on the couch with his iHusk in hand. The bags under his eyes seem more apparent now. You don’t see Tavros; most likely he’s in his respiteblock.

You walk over to your matesprit and grab his arm. The brownblood looks up at you as you pull him to his feet. He’s sluggish and smells of cannabis. “Do you have any idea what time it is?”

“Time for me to be left the fuck alone…?” Rufioh grumbles.

“What’s gotten into you lately?” you ask, “You’ve been going off into the swamps and who knows where else by yourself. You’re barely around these days.”

Rufioh pulls his arm from you. “Let _go_ of me! What do you care, huh? You never showed any interest in me or Tavros or…or _anything_ , so why bother pretending now?”

“Rufioh, what are you talking about? I always cared about you.”

“You cared about me as your _nursemaid!_ ” Rufioh growls, showing you his fangs, “When you came back from the Jangles all fucked up and nobody cared! I took _care_ of you! I watched over you! I worried when you flip out over loud noises and shit and what did I get in return? Oh yeah; I ended up _fucking ignored_ and treated like I’m some sort of… _cave troll_ who’s only job is to have your offspring!”

You back away as Rufioh growls louder, marching toward you. You feel your defenses rise up as the brownblood continues his enraged advance.

“Rufioh…” you mutter.

“Where were you when he ran away? Where were you when Damara fucking blackmailed me?

“That’s something entirely—”

He’s an inch away from your face now, shouting, “Where were you _when your army buddy  hit our son with his fucking car and took the fuck off?! Huh? HUH?”_

You hit him before you can consider stopping yourself. Rufioh stumbles back, hitting the ground from the impact. You feel the blood drain from your face as you see the darkening bruise under the brownblood’s left eye.

Rufioh glares at you and picks himself off the ground. “It’s over.” he says.

You swallow, throat tight. “I know…” you mutter, “It…it’s been over for a long time… hasn’t it?”

Rufioh doesn’t make eye contact as he admits, “I was only with you because of pity.”

You frown. “Pity is what makes a matespritship—”

“Oh, get your head out of your waste chute!” Rufioh growls, “Pity and hate aren’t _just_ the relationship in the _real world!_ You have to also _love_ and _respect_ the person. And I _pity_ you but I don’t _love_ you and I sure as _hell_ don’t _respect_ you!” He stands and rubs his bruised eye, “I stayed by you and look what you gave me: a bunch of fucking heartache and a bruised eye. Oh yeah, Horuss. _Thanks a lot._ ”

“I…” you mutter, “…I lost my temper, Rufioh.”

_“Out._ ” he snarls.

“Rufioh—”

“ _Get out of my trailer and out of my life before I call the fucking cops!”_

You know it’s a hollow threat but it hurts all the same. You’re a veteran and the NJPD would be willing to let you off with a warning, blaming the incident on your documented PTSD. You leave the mobile hive and don’t bother looking back.  

 


	2. report

You spend Monday morning avoiding Equius, because you don’t want to explain why his mother has a bruise on his face that you caused. You go to work at the medical clinic but your vascular pump’s not in it. You take off early and tell the director you’ll do overtime tomorrow. They don’t mind, saying that you’ve helped support your country so you could stand to have time to yourself. They’re conservatives, and appreciate everything you’ve done in the past.

Although you know you’re a coward and not the brave soldier everyone assumes you to be. You don’t even look at the Purple Heart you earned during your duty in the Jangles. You placed it in storage and let it sit in the ceremonial velvet lined box to collect dust.

You go to RadioHive and purchase parts for Tavros’s iHusk. You found the SD card in good condition but the rest of it is damaged. You go to your mobilehive, sit at your work table, and spend the early afternoon building a new iHusk from scratch. It shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve built more complicated machines before.  

You check Trollichum to see if Rufioh sent you any messages of forgiveness or otherwise (Not that you’re hoping he forgives you. You’re the highblood in this relationship. It doesn’t matter to you if he forgives you or not. Nope. Not at all.)

Rufioh hasn’t sent you anything but you have another message pending.

 

\--guilefulActor began trolling criticalTrooper!—

GA: Hello+, Ho+russ.

CT:8=D< Oh. It’s you.

CT:8=D< I don’t believe we’ve ever talked at length before.

GA: No+t since o+ur days at the mano+r.

CT:8=D< Could you please not bring that up?

CT:8=D< Why are you contacting me? I am not e%actly in the mood to deal with you and your anti%.

GA: Ho+russ. Peo+ple change yo+u kno+w. I’m no+t the mischief seeking little girl I was in the past. I’ve matured beyo+nd that ‘mean girl’ so+rt o+f mentality.

CT:8=D< Pardon me but hoofsbeastsh*t to that, Porrim. 

CT:8=D< Those bodily markings of yours say otherwise.

GA: I have no+ idea what yo+u’re implying Ho+russ but I do+n’t think I care fo+r it very much.

CT:8=D< You are more dangerous than you let people on to believe. You are very much like a spider waiting in a web. You keep people calm and collected and yet you watch them for a moment of weakness when you can strike.

CT:8=D< Why you didn’t get along with Aranea in the long run I can’t fathom. Maybe it’s because you have the venom she doesn’t possess.

GA: Veno+m? 

CT:8=D< You are your father’s daughter. He was the e%act same way.

CT:8=D< The historians can dilute the facts all they want but the Grand Highblood was a man of careful intrigue when it came to his eventual victims. Like you, he would watch and wait for the moment’s weakness before acting.

CT:8=D< He’s more of an ambush predator if you will, like a crocodile.

GA: Yo+u o+nly see the surface with my father. I kno+w what lies underneath, just as my mo+ther did. In that aspect, yo+u are just like yo+ur father.

CT:8=D<Meaning what e%actly?

GA: Yo+u lo+o+k at my father and see o+nly a predato+r and a symbol+l o+f a glo+rio+us lo+st past. I see a man who+ lo+st everything that mattered to+ him and sees no+ po+int in even attempting to+ leave that hellho+le masquerading as a priso+n.

GA: I do+n’t mean to+ interact o+r bo+ther yo+u fo+r lo+ng, Ho+russ. I o+nly want to+ kno+w why my matesprit has a bruise o+n his face that he’s unwilling to+ talk abo+ut it, and acco+rding to+ Aradia she saw yo+u enter his trailer lo+o+king angry and left lo+o+king sheepish.  

 

You stare at the jade-colored text.

 

CT:8=D< You’re lying. 

GA: I am no+t. That is the exact sequence o+f events, my dear.   

CT:8=D< Don’t even f*%ing talk to me like that. You’re not your mother so don’t even f*%ing think for a f*%ing minute that things are like how they were back at the f*%ing manor.

GA: What lewd language, Ho+russ. Equius wo+uld sweat up a sto+rm seeing all that fo+ul censo+red talk.  

CT:8=D< You’re saying this to irritate me.

GA: I’m telling yo+u since Rufio+h didn’t get a chance to+ tell yo+u befo+re yo+u slugged him. 

CT:8=D< I didn’t do that.

 

You did. That’s beside the point though.

 

GA: With yo+ur strength, yo+u co+uld have cracked his skull like an egg. What were yo+u thinking?

CT:8=D< I…

CT:8=D< …I wasn’t. I’m still upset with myself over it.

CT:8=D< Porrim, there is no way you are in a flush quadrant with Rufioh.

GA: Why no+t?

CT:8=D< You just can’t be is why!

CT:8=D< Rufioh deserves better than you!

CT:8=D< He’s a very sweet and kind troll who deserves someone who isn’t…

GA: Isn’t me? O+r rather, he deserves so+meo+ne like yo+u?

CT:8=D< …

GA: I’m so+rry to+ info+rm yo+u o+f this but Rufio+h has never had the same feelings fo+r yo+u as yo+u did fo+r him. Yo+u, Damara, and everyo+ne else always strived fo+r Co+o+lkid Rufio+h’s attentio+n.

CT:8=D< It was not a competition.

GA: O+h co+me o+ff yo+r high ho+rsearo+ni. It was always a co+mpetitio+n when we were yo+ung. I co+mpeted with Kurlo+z fo+r o+ur father’s attentio+n. Meenah co+mpeted with Kankri fo+r the Signless’s attention+n. Meulin co+mpeted with everyo+ne in scho+o+l fo+r Kurlo+z’s flush quadrant and even fo+ught to+ keep him.

CT:8=D< Meulin’d never do that.

GA: Yo+u’ve never seen her truly angry. I saw her take the do+o+r o+ff a lo+ad gaper stall and thro+w it at a girl.

GA: And do+n’t deny that yo+u didn’t co+mpete with Damara fo+r Rufio+h in yo+ur silly high scho+o+l lo+ve triangle bullshit that carried into+ adultho+o+d. And then yo+u wo+n Rufio+h, o+ut o+f no+n flush pity, but yo+u didn’t kno+w ho+w to+ keep Rufio+h happy because while yo+u were co+mpeting yo+u never bo+thered learning abo+ut the perso+n yo+u wanted so+ badly.  

GA: So+ Damara was able to+ lead Rufio+h astray, again, just like she wo+uld back in high scho+o+l.

CT:8=D< He…he told you about that?

GA: O+f co+urse he to+ld me that and I o+ffered to+ help. Kno+wing yo+u, yo+u pro+bably go+t so+ jealo+us that it was Damara invo+lved, and refused to+ lift a finger. Like we’re all teenagers back in high scho+o+l and that’s a perfectly o+kay thing to+ do+ to+ yo+ur matesprit.

GA: Yo+u pro+bably blamed him fo+r the entire situatio+n.

CT:8=D< I didn’t.

 

You did.

 

GA: Well, it do+esn’t matter no+w. Histo+ry repeats itself. Yo+ur father co+mpeted with the Signless fo+r the Disciple. O+nce he wo+n her, he didn’t kno+w what to+ do+ with her so+ in the end he lo+st her, o+r rather she lo+st him. 

CT:8=D< Don’t call them that.

GA: Do+n’t call them what?

CT:8=D< Those names. Those titles. They’re all hoofsbeastsh*t.

CT:8=D< He wasn’t the Signless. She wasn’t the Disciple. Your mother wasn’t the Dolorosa.

CT:8=D< They never admitted to being those people. Only Vantas Senior clung to that fantasy of the homeworld. There’s no hard evidence they were who they said they were. We only call your father the Grand Highblood because he’s the fiercest purpleblood around and no one is going to argue with him.

CT:8=D< They weren’t symbols of freedom and the old ways. They were just trolls. Old trolls living their lives on an alien planet and most of them are dead, so why in the f*% does it matter anymore?

CT:8=D< None of this f*%ing matters.

\--criticalTrooper[CT] has stopped trolling guilefulActor[GA]!--

 

You log out of Trollichum and push your AR goggles up on your face. You are grinding your teeth. You don’t care. You don’t care about this. You definitely don’t care that Rufioh has picked Porrim over you. You don’t care about your broken matespritship and your vacant quadrants and… just fuck it.

You abandon the iHusk on the workbench and go to your respiteblock. You need a long, highly concentrated, soak in the recuperacoon. 

* * *

You wake at seven o’ clock at night with a pounding headache. You stagger out of the sopor-rich slime and walk to the hygieneblock. You scrape off what dried slime you can and wash it off into the ablution trap. You change into a T-shirt and regular pants. You don’t take off your helmet. You never take it off since the Jangles.

You look at Tavros’s iHusk on the workbench.

You recall Tavros’s accident.

For that past week, you had been hanging out with one of your old army buddies, Charlie. He was the one who found you in the Jangles—the only survivor of the ambush.

So, when you saw your friend years later, you welcomed him with open arms. You hung out in bars…and unfortunately that’s all Charlie wanted to do. Drink, smoke, talk about the good ole days in the service, and have you drive him home. You tried to talk to him about his alcoholism. He refused to hear it. So you stopped hanging out with Charlie.

You should have known Charlie wouldn’t stop his drinking even after you left. You should have taken away his car keys or dropped him off at the Veteran Center. You should have been more proactive. You didn’t know it was Charlie who hit Tavros until the witnesses all confirmed the culprit had bumper sticker saying they were a Jangles War Vet. Rufioh wanted to press charges but Charlie had gone back into the army and was already fighting the war against terrorism in Leder. You let it drop; the damage had already been done and even if you met Charlie again, there was no way to un-cripple your son.

Four months after Tavros’s accident, you got a letter from the military. It said Charlie had been killed in Leder. You went to the paltry funeral service and stared at the military section of the cemetery plots, which were reserved for the first wave of soldiers sent into Southern Bojangles.  

There was only one unmarked plot left in the section, which was reserved for you.

You sit at your workbench and return to working on the iHusk. You aren’t the perfect father to Tavros. In fact, you’re pretty sure you screwed up his life but at least you can try and fix _one_ thing. At least you can figure out what’s wrong with a machine.

People are another matter entirely.

 


	3. infer

**== >Be the high school teacher a day into the future**

 

You are now Aranea. It is Tuesday afternoon and you are trying to relax in your room but you’re currently very wound up and irritated with your ex-matesprit. You’re thankful that its exam week. Exam week is like a mini-vacation for you. You don’t have to worry about your exams until Thursday and until then you can take it easy.

You really wish you were taking it easy but right now you are furiously typing on your husktop.

 

\--arachnesGlory[AG] began trolling guilefulActor[GA]!-—

AG: What did you do, Porrim?

GA: I have no+ idea what yo+u are talking abo+ut.

AG: Don’t play your stupid high school mind games with me right now I am not in the mood.

GA: Trust me, Aranea. If I was playing high scho+o+l mind games with yo+u this wo+uld be co+nsiderably mo+re enjo+yable.

AG: Cut the crap.

AG: I got a message from Equius saying that his father was in one of his “off moods” and since we all grew up together more or less I’d know what to do.

GA: That sho+ws ho+w much Ho+russ’s so+n kno+ws. Yo+u didn’t gro+w up in the mano+r like the rest o+f us.

AG: The only person who gets under Horuss’s skin is you. You’ve always 8ullied in your attempts at 8eing pitch. It’s like how you agit8 Kurloz every chance you get in the hope he’ll find finally pitch you.

GA: I do+ no+t bully, Ho+russ, o+r anyo+ne.

GA: I just prefer to+ be ho+nest with him and no+t beat aro+und the bush o+n why his matespritship fell apart like a paper bo+at in cho+ppy river water. I was being helpful. 

 

You groan, unable to tell when Porrim is being serious or sarcastic.

 

AG: Ugh!!!!!!!!

AG: Porrim, you have ZERO tact or class when it comes to dealing with people! You’re far too 8LUNT!

GA: I have plenty o+f tact.

AG: You have all the tact of one of your father’s godsdamned clu8s!

GA: If yo+u are to+o+ subtle with peo+ple the message flies o+ver their heads. I tried to+ talk to+ Ho+russ in the past and he paid me no+ mind so+ no+w I do+ it with a little mo+re fo+rce. What’s the harm in that?

AG: You see a small splinter in someone and you hammer away at it with Subjuggulator-sized clu8 of ‘helping’ thinking that’s going to make it all 8etter. Well it doesn’t! People don’t work like that! Your mother and Kurloz have all the tact with people you lack! How in the hell that happened I’m never going to understand!

AG: Kurloz acts more like a jade8lood than you do!

GA: Yo+u’re basing that o+ff o+f human stereo+types o+f jadeblo+o+ds as all nice, elo+quent ladytro+lls who+ are exclusively ho+mo+sexual. I am no+t any o+f that. I am me and I am still a jadeblo+o+d. The way I behave means no+thing to+ that.

GA: Just like with yo+u, yo+u are a cerulean and yet yo+u hide yo+ur veno+m instead o+f co+nstantly using it like yo+ur mo+ther.

AG: Unlike you, I get along with my hemokind parent so that trick of yours doesn’t work on me. I knew my mother was right a8out you 8eing a manipulative 8itch 8ut you were honestly far more clingy on me than I ever was on you.

GA: I was no+t.

AG: Who said “You’re the only one who understands me”? Cause it sure as hell wasn’t me.

GA: …fine.

GA: Yes, I’ll admit that I tho+ught we had so+mething. Having to+ watch o+ut fo+r o+thers is tiring if there is no+ o+ne in yo+ur o+wn perso+nal co+rner.

AG: Well now you have no one and you have yourself to thank for that.

GA: No+t exactly.

AG: What now?

GA: I did happen to+ find so+meo+ne in an… unlikely place.

AG: Who?

GA: I’d rather no+t say.

GA: And, yes, I guess I was a little upset with Ho+russ, which I why I said a lo+t o+f tho+se thing to+ him but it’s true.

AG: What’s true?

GA: The pedestal thing with Rufio+h. It’s been that way since we were yo+ung, Aranea. Yo+u’re his sister. Yo+u remember ho+w everyo+ne treated Rufio+h and to+ so+me extent they still do+ treat him like that.

 

You do remember very well. You were never very popular in school. For one thing, there was the issue of a language barrier. You grew up speaking Old Alternian and took pains to learn English while Rufioh was young enough to quickly abandon his one tongue for another. Unlike your brother, you weren’t athletic and lacked the charms to make friends as quickly as he did. Rufioh was always the star of the school. What you could do in grades, Rufioh did for his popularity: the star of the football team, head of the pep squad, president of the student body three years in a row (even though you know it the vice president and treasurer who did all the work). Rufioh was the All-Canzian Boy while you were just the little nerd with her honor roll certificates, working in the library and being head of the Debate Team.

 

AG: Yes… I have noticed that.

AG: It is hard 8eing the offspring of legendary heroes. Look at the emotional mess Kankri has become in living in his father’s shadow. The Signless was a8le to accomplish a revolution and b8ecome a martyr and the figurehead of a religion. What was Kankri a8le to accomplish? He couldn’t even make it through school without cracking.

GA: Everyo+ne liked Rufio+h but Rufio+h has no+t liked himself in a very lo+ng time. When they see Rufio+h, they o+nly see the shiny surface that they all crave and no+thing else inside.

GA: They co+mpete fo+r his attentio+n witho+ut even understanding what that wo+uld mean.

AG: You seem to talk a8out Rufioh a lot.

GA: We have been… talking recently… ever since Tavro+s ran away last summer.

GA: I think yo+u sho+uld speak with him. He is yo+ur bro+ther and pro+bably needs som+e guidance.

AG: Why? What happened?

GA: I think yo+u sho+uld see him is all I’m saying.

AG: Oh for godssake. Fine.

AG: This 8etter not 8e part of some scheme of yours.

GA: I have no+ idea what yo+u’re talking abo+ut.

AG: My foot you don’t.

\--arachnesGlory[AG] ceased trolling guilefulActor[GA]!—

 

You turn off your husktop and leave your bedroom, stepping over the stacks of books and papers from your current research project. You’ve been looking forward to the cultural festival in East New Jack this weekend. You always find the best of research materials there among the university students. After waddling out of your room, you walk out the door.

It’s a nice summer day so there are plenty of people loitering around. You try not to look at your neighbors down the street who have (once again) decided to pull out their couch on their front lawn and grill hamburgers.

Rufioh’s trailer is looking considerably more shabby than usual. There are overgrown weeds in the yard and the grass is past your ankles. You knock on the trailer door.

“Rufioh?” you ask, “Rufioh, are you in?” A minute later Rufioh opens the door with a blunt hanging out of his mouth. You see the black eye and frown, “What happened to you? Did you get mugged?”

“What…?” Rufioh touches his swollen eye and mutters, “Uh, no… sorta had, and please do not flip the fuck out about this, an… _altercation_ with Horuss.”

“ _Altercation_?” you growl, “That _bully_! I oughta go over there and make him punch himself until he can’t think straight! Or—”

He grabs your arm before you can storm off to the Zahhak trailer, “Hey, Aranea. _No._ It wasn’t like that. _”_

“Then explain it to me, _Rufioh_!” you grumble, “You always downplay it when people are being assholes towards you! Remember how things were back in high school with Damara!”

“Aranea, it’s not that big of a deal—”

“Let me in!” You push past him and enter the trailer. You wrinkle your nose at the smell, “Ugh, it stinks of pot. Have you been smoking all day? You’re not in high school anymore.”

“ _Please_ don’t bring up high school.” Rufioh shuts the door behind you. He walks over to the couch and flops down. “It was enough of a pain in the ass to deal with back when we had to go. I’m past that shit now.”

You sigh and clear off a pile of magazines from the couch so you can sit next to him. “More like you’re past it age wise but not marijuana wise. Be thankful we live in an enlightened time where people don’t consider you to be suffering from the archaic ‘reefer madness’.”

“The ancient humans were stupid, but they never encountered trolls or had interstellar travel.” Rufioh rolls his eyes, “What’re you even doing here? It’s finals week. Shouldn’t you be at school right now?”

You shake your head. “My finals aren’t until Thursday. Until then, I’m free, but that’s not why I came over here. Porrim said I should talk with you.”

“Porrim…” Rufioh rubs at his swollen eye and grumbles. “Sorry, she’s just… worried about me. Afraid I’ll get depressed like Kankri and try and throw myself off a building.” When he sees you wince he asks, “What?”

“I’m sorry it’s just…well, I was on the Debate Team with Kankri. He’s always been a little… off… emotionally and then he had to leave school because of well, what _happened_ …”

“What are you talking about?”

You scour your memory. “ _Ohhh_. That’s right. You were off with the football team in Chiquago when it happened. Well…” You nervously twirl a strand of hair around your finger, “…well, that day, Kankri tried to throw himself off the roof of the building.”

“What?” Rufioh’s eyes widen. “How did he even _get_ up there?”

You shake your head. “I don’t know how. He must have gotten a key from one of the teachers since only staff are allowed up there. I was in the library setting up a new display when I heard… I think it was Latula. Yes, I’m sure it was her because Mituna and her had been outside skating against the rules again when they saw. Latula was screaming ‘Don’t do it’. I ran outside and there was Kankri on the roof’s edge, shaking. Even up high, I saw the look in his eyes… like all the hope had been destroyed and this was the final answer…”

You grip your fist. You try not to remember that day but it’s always so clear in your memory. The crowd of worried students and teachers wondering what was going to happen. The campus police arriving and shouting for Kankri to come down and that everything was going to be alright.

Rufioh swallows. “Sounds heavy, sis… what… well, obviously you got him down but who did it…? The cops…?”  

You shake your head again. “The campus police tried to get him down but Kankri only threatened to jump if they came close to him. Eventually Vantas Senior arrived and was able to get Kankri to come down, though Kankri came pretty close to jumping. After that, he transferred out of school and I didn’t see him anymore. He pretty much stayed inside of his trailer all the time. Then he started going to that private school out in East New Jack. The next time I heard about him, he was dating Cronus.”

“This happened in sophomore year though, so… that was a _long_ while after.”

You nod. “Yes, Kankri was in his twenties when he was dating Cronus. A year later they had Karkat and well…” You shrug, “…you know the rest of their story.” You look at Rufioh, “Enough about the past. You still haven’t explained to me why Horuss hit you in the _present_.”

Rufioh groans, “It’s not a big deal Aranea…”

You hold up a magazine from the stack attempting to slope across your thigh, “And why do you have back issues of Jade Empress?”

“Porrim likes it…” Rufioh sighs.

You tilt your head, “Porrim?”

Rufioh takes a deep breath. “I have to tell you something, Spidersis…” He runs his fingers through his mohawk and adds, “Porrim and I have been… seeing each other.”

“Seeing each other…?” You ponder over the words, “…what do you mean exactly?”

“Last summer…when Tav up an disappeared, I was pretty broken up. My Pupa was gone and I couldn’t find him anywhere and he didn’t want to be found. Maybe I’d smothered him too much or maybe he was just sick of me.” He sighs, “So I was… well ‘bummed’ doesn’t even _begin_ to describe how I felt, sis. Porrim found me in my pity of misery and helped me straight things out. Put me back on my feet so I didn’t end up like Kankri with all his… problems.”

You frown. “So… you’ve been sneaking around with my ex behind my back? Or was this before we were even broken up?”

Rufioh looks at you. “It’s not like that, sis! Not at all!” He uneasily scratching his arm pit. “Listen… Porrim always talked to me and treated me like a person, y’know? She wasn’t climbing over everyone else to be my friend. Meenah, and her and you are like the only people who see _me_ and not just like… the guy who peaked too early in high school.”

“Rufioh…” you sigh.

“Aranea, don’t sugarcoat shit for me okay? I’m not a kit anymore. I can handle the truth as much as anyone can.” Rufioh folds his arms and leans back on the couch, “High school was pretty much the only time where I was on top of the world. Once I got my diploma, everyone knew I was done. It’s why you have a solid job and I don’t, even though everyone always called you Queen Nerd while I was Mr. Popular. Being Mr. Popular didn’t get me shit in life but all that studying you did got you plenty more than being everyone’s _friend_ ever did.”

You touch his shoulder. “You did a lot too, Rufioh. You always volunteered and you protected people when someone would bully them.”

Rufioh pushes off your hand. “I’m not brave, Aranea. I was never really _brave._ I caved a lot. There were a lot of things… going on about the football coach and the shit he’d do on the side… I didn’t speak up about it. I should have. I should have said and done a lot of things that I didn’t do...” You look down, “I should have stood up to Damara. I should have told Horuss that I didn’t really love him… I… I should have told you the truth about Porrim and me when I saw your matespritship was falling apart… I… I should have been a man in the family when Dad disappeared….”

You put your arms around his shoulders. It always comes back to that for Rufioh; it always comes back to your father and how he went out for a nighttime flight and never came back. Your mother waited and waited but eventually realized he wasn’t coming home. It was too difficult to maintain the farm without your father around. You had to sell the land and relocate to the city. You remember spending a few days in the East End Motels, trying to avoid being bitten by rats until you could move into the trailers.

You hug your brother, holding him close like you would back when he was small and wondering why you had to leave your home. “Rufioh, you were a little boy when all that happened. There was nothing you could have done to help. I was older. I didn’t mind watching over you.”

“Still… there must have been something I could have done. I had my wings. I could have chased after Dad.”

“Rufioh, this isn’t Pupa Pan. This is real life. A little boy like you couldn't brave the storm Dad got caught up in. You didn’t know anything about surviving on your own or in the wilderness. Plus”—you smile—“you were still scared of _thunder_ and _spiders_.”

“I can’t help it. I feel like I’ve never been able to pull my own weight. You’re the one who’s been taking care of Mom all this time. That’s why you have to live in this shitty trailer park.”

“I only did it because I want mother to have some comfort before she… passes on. I know it’s hard on her. She badly misses the Dolorosa. With the Grand Highblood in jail and the Condesce long since dead or missing… she’s the only one left. It must be hard for her; outliving everyone and being in such poor health yourself...”

You don’t like to think about your mother’s eventual passing. Unlike the others who were constantly at odds with their parents (especially their hemokind parent), you loved your mother and still do. You two were always best friends more than just mother and daughter. It’s the reason you still see her every Winter Holiday’s Eve, even if she doesn’t recognize you.  

Rufioh leans against you (and you have to take pains to avoid _not_ having his horns hit you in the head) and sighs, “I just want to do all the things I should have done. I want to be a good matesprit and a good parent. I failed at both, especially with Tav the way he is.”

“Rufioh, Tavros is just going through changes.

“But he’s not the same person anymore! I don’t know what happened to him… I tried asking him what happened over the summer but he just gets more upset! Porrim says I should just give him space until he’s ready to talk about it but…”

You sit back and see Rufioh is biting his lip again, like he would when he was a boy and had troubling thoughts on his mind. “What?”

Rufioh frowns. “It’s the clown.”

“The clown? You mean Kurloz’s younger brother?”

Rufioh’s eyes narrow. “Yeah, him. I don’t like him. He’s one of those gangbanger assholes and Tav’s already dealing with enough shit involving Hanael. Painted fucker thinks he’s invisible but I see him following Tav; watching him, looking ready to pounce.”

“You’re afraid he’ll hurt Tavros like Hanael does?”

“I’m afraid he’ll fuck him up even worse than Hanael is doing with my pupa. It’s obvious from the bruises Tav’s got that some shit’s going on and I don’t know why Tav just won’t fight back or leave that shitty little _fuckface_!”

You touch his shoulder. “Rufioh, Tavros is your son but he’s still a person. Telling someone to dump a person they’re involved with is easier said than done for someone who is being abused. It’s even harder for trolls, especially male trolls, to admit when they are being abused. It… well, it takes _courage_ to admit when someone is hurting you and you’ve lost control of the situation.”

Rufioh sighs, “I’m just worried that I’ve lost my pupa forever…”

“You haven’t lost him, Rufioh. Tavros is still Tavros. He needs time and when he feels he’s ready, he’ll open up to you.”

“If you say so…” Rufioh smiles, “…I’m probably not the last parent who’s asked you about this.”

“No, you definitely won’t be.” you sigh, “I’m thinking about talking to Cronus about Eridan. The school board is going to drop him if he continues to miss exams.”

Rufioh swallows. “So,” he says, “you’re not upset at me for being with Porrim?”

You shrug. “Porrim and me only had a fling, and it only became a serious thing because I had Vriska and Kanaya and I wasn’t about to let Porrim off the hook about that. It has nothing to do with you.” You smile, “I’m just glad you found someone stable and willing to support you.”

“What will you do then?”

“I don’t know.” You stand up. “I guess I’ll keep working on my research paper.”

Rufioh smirks. “Writing about Alternian demonology or UTC foreign policy?”

“Neither. I’m actually looking into a little matter for a colleague of mine concerning the history of nearby countries; the cause of certain on-going rebellions that are still shrouded in secrecy as there are few witnesses willing to speak up. It’s really a matter of decoding history this time around.” You smile, “You know how much I love to dig up facts and decode history.”

“I wish you luck then, sis.”

You give Rufioh one more hug before you return to your trailer and your work. You’ve been reading through newspapers and interviews, piecing together the clues.

It’s while you’re reading over sparse interviews available from survivors of the Ortiza Riots that you remember Horuss. Horuss, the war veteran who must be alone in his trailer. You’ve never really talked with Horuss at length. You were always of opposing opinions: he a social conservative and you a liberal. Still, there is a high suicide rate for veterans. You already wrote a paper about the UTC’s military policy of running troll soldiers into the ground—constantly calling them back for tours of duty and ignoring the obvious signs of psychological breaks.

You don’t agree with Horuss’s opinions but you don’t want to have to start burying your friends, just like your mother had to do with hers.

You log into Trollichum and see that Horuss is listed as ‘offline’. You’re not sure if he’s invisible or actually online but it’s worth sending a message. Even if you don’t get an immediate response, he’ll know someone is at least trying to talk to him.

 

\--criticalTrooper[CT] is offline!--

\--arachnesGlory[AG] began trolling criticalTrooper[CT]!—

AG: Um.

AG: Hello, Horuss.

 

There’s no response, which is what you expected. You go back to reading over the interview, trying to piece together the events before the Ortiza Riots actually began.

Forty five minutes later while you’re enjoying some tea, you get your response.

 

\--criticalTrooper[CT] is offline!--

CT:8=D< Hello, Aranea.

AG: Hello, Horuss. You’re still listed as 8eing offline.

CT:8=D< I only wish to not be disturbed right now. I’m in the middle of a delicate procedure.

AG: Are you at the hospital?

CT:8=D< No, I uh, took the day off.

CT:8=D< I’m currently repairing Tavros’s iHusk and the parts are rather difficult to deal with.

AG: Oh. Well, I won’t 8other you then.

CT:8=D< Its no true bother. I’ve repaired more difficult things with fewer supplies in the field. We rarely talk so I think if you wanted to talk now it must be important.

CT:8=D< What is it?

AG: I, uh, need to speak with you a8out a matter.

CT:8=D< What matter would that be?

AG: Its a8out Rufioh… and Porrim.

CT:8=D< …there is nothing to di%uss.

CT:8=D< Rufioh and I have broken up our matespritship and that is that.

CT:8=D< And I would rather not discuss my e%-matesprit right now.

AG: I understand the feeling 8ut we… we’re sort of in the same 8oat here I think.

CT:8=D< I fail to see that.

AG: 8oth our matesprits left us or we left them… we shouldn't… suffer alone

CT:8=D< We’ve never gotten along, Aranea.

AG: We never had anything to talk a8out. We never really interacted 8ecause we never grew up together. I didn’t grow up in the manor with the rest of you.

CT:8=D< That was a long time ago and a different part of my life. And I do recall the few times we met usually ending in a fight of some sort.

AG: We just have a different view on things from a… social perspective, such as the role of warm8loods in our society. That doesn't mean we h8 each other.

AG: I mean honestly, do you h8 me?

CT:8=D< No. I simply do not agree with your opinions. I have honestly never thought much about you as a person. Pardon me if that sounded rude.

AG: It’s not rude, Horuss.

AG: You've pro8a8ly had a lot of your mind with Tavros's… situ8tion.

AG: Did you… happen to see his face?

CT:8=D< I did when he hoofed over here this morning.

CT:8=D< It was… distressing.

CT:8=D< I told him to pony up and stop letting Hanael detrollize him and he took hoofense to that.

AG: You shouldn’t 8lame yourself for what’s going on with Tavros, Horuss. I think something happened to him. I see it all the time in my students.

AG: Something terri8le or traumatic happens and it rapidly changes their 8ehavior and how they act. Coupled with 8eing crippled and underestimated for so long, he’s learned to not want to rely on others for long.

AG: In that aspect of self-reliance, he is a lot like you.

CT:8=D< I…

CT:8=D< Tavros is my son but there is nothing that can be done.

CT:8=D< Tavros does not want me in his life and I have honored his choice.

AG: I don't think it’s you that Tavros has trou8le with 8ut perhaps your… opinions a8out warm8loods are less than encouraging to him. He doesn't want to feel pressured to settle down with a cold8lood.

CT:8=D< If he had saddled down with a good highb100d he would not be in this situation!

AG: Horuss, I h8 to 8r8k it to you 8ut you must realize that 8y traditional Alternian standards Hanael is a high8lood of quality. He is a vicious, relentless, domin8ting troll.

AG: And quite dim, if his grades anything to judge 8y.

CT:8=D< Hanael is not a highb100d. If this was Alternia, Hanael would have been culled and stomped out early due to his ignorance. No doubt another highb100d will be along to break him.

AG: 8ut this isn’t Alternia. What makes you so sure someone will come along to get rid of Hanael?

CT:8=D< You know history, Aranea, but I know people and I especially know highb100ds. They do not take kindly to other hemocastes mooving in and dragging their name through the mud.

CT:8=D< You call me a stubborn conservative? Well, you should talk to some of the purpleb100ds I served with, or rather, if you could speak to the dead that is. Purpleb100ds are very ritualistic and one of them will soon come along to “take care of” Hanael I’m sure.

CT:8=D< After all he is a cobaltb100d acting like a highb100d when technically he is not. He is only a step up higher than me on the hemospectrum. He is nowhere close to where Kurloz and the other pure STRONG purpleb100ds.

AG: So what a8out Tavros’s happiness? Most high8loods have become criminals having no place in a non-imperial driven society. 8eing with someone higher on the hemospectrum might not make him happy.

CT:8=D< I am not an unfeeling monster I worry for my son but it also sickens me to think about the state of the hemospectrum. Highb100ds are no better than lowb100ds and trolls now coddle their offspring.

CT:8=D< The latest generation has abandoned the past. It’s rare to find any of them interested in learning about the proud history of our people or if they can even read the old language, let alone speak it.

AG: That is sadly true. I take pains as a history teacher to try and stress the importance of the past but it’s difficult. I don’t know if it’s sad or ironic that humans and carapaces display more interest in ancient troll culture than actual trolls.

CT:8=D< Depressing more like it.

AG: Depressing is pro8a8ly a more fitting word.

AG: Out of all our children, only Kanaya and Aradia are fluent in Old Alternian and Aradia only speaks it because Damara refuses to learn English.  

CT:8=D< Like mother like daughter. The Handmaid was an odd woman. I never understood a word she said.

AG: I remem8er her well enough as 8eing odd and frightening. Her accent was so thick 8ut I’m rather sure every time she spoke to me, she was insulting me.

CT:8=D< Most likely she was.

CT:8=D< You weren’t raised in the manor so you wouldn’t know her as well as the rest of us did, but the Handmaid was not a woman to be trifled with. My father cautioned me to avoid her because she was what he called, “addled in the thinkpan”.

CT:8=D< Her obsession with Ancient Alternian paganism and her demonic cults are part of the reason why I preferred raising Equius as a New Alternian  Baptist.

AG: I haven’t heard of that practice before.

CT:8=D< It is more common in the Eastern Continent in Bojangles. It is more about the spirit of what the folktales were meant to teach us and less about bloody sacrifices to various deities.

AG: I am not fond of traditional Alternian practices myself. I think we’ve advanced 8eyond a society that calls for 8lood rituals and callous gods. May8e I am also a little critical toward it 8ecause of my own parents’ rebellion and skepticism toward the system of things. I prefer agnosticism in the end.

CT:8=D< Our generation is the one to really embrace agnostism and now with our children culture and religious gaps are the reason for more tension. Damara enjoys her b100d sacrifices, moonlit dances, and holy prostitution like her mother did while I am fairly certain Aradia is an agonistic.

CT:8=D< Thus the base for the tensions between mother and daughter.  

AG: I suspect the tension between Nepeta and Meulin are the same, as Nepeta has expressed her atheism several times in her writing.

AG: How did your mother view your agnosticism? Mine was never really fond of religions to 8egin with.

CT:8=D< My mother was rather indifferent to it as Meulin was always her loyal little shadow. I think as long as she had someone to listen to her, she was fine.

CT:8=D< My mother had other worries, mainly because of the tension between her and the Dolorosa.

AG: Oh, that’s right. Your mother and Kurloz and Porrim’s mother hated each other. I never understood why 8ut I wasn’t around for most of the conflict. Porrim didn’t like to talk about it.

CT:8=D< It wasn’t just the Dolorosa who disliked my mother. The Grand Highb100d did not care for her either. It was the reason why they opposed Kurloz and Meulin being in a quadrant. I was too young to understand the why of them opposing the relationship but I think it tied into my mother’s religious practices.

AG: Really? That’s actually quite fascin8ing.

AG: I’ve always wanted to piece together the past of our parents. Perhaps find a way to prove who they really were to everyone else, along with figuring out why history was altered. Why the fictional versions of our parents are so different from reality and…oh!

AG: Oh 8other, I’ve 8een sitting here 8lathering on again and interviewing you like I’m getting my resources ready for a research paper.

CT:8=D< I assumed this was about a research paper from the very beginning.

AG: What?

CT:8=D< I just assumed this was your roundabout way of finding things out without asking directly.  

AG: What?! No!

CT:8=D< No?

AG: Yes no!

CT:8=D< What.

CT:8=D< Is it ‘no’ or is it ‘yes’, Aranea?

AG: You know what I mean! 

AG: I messaged you 8ecause I was worried a8out you of course!

CT:8=D< Worried? About me?

CT:8=D< Why? We’ve barely spoken.

AG: Oh, Horuss…

AG: Just 8ecause we don’t talk doesn’t mean I can’t worry a8out you. How long have you even 8een cooped up in that house?

CT:8=D< …

CT:8=D< I am not stabled up in my home. I just live my life in privacy. I do my shift at the hospital, I buy groceries, I go to veteran’s meetings, and then I…I fiddle the time away I suppose. That is my day.

AG: And outside of that there’s nothing else? I mean, do you ever hang out with friends or companions?

CT:8=D< …

CT:8=D< Many of my close friends are no longer living.

AG: Oh.

AG: I’m sorry, Horuss…

AG: 8ut… may8e this is a time to start a new possi8le friendship?

CT:8=D< It is hard to find people in this pasture with similar views on our culture.

AG: I don’t see it that way.

CT:8=D< I know that now but then again you are a history teacher so you should enjoy what you teach at some level.

CT:8=D< Honestly, I am thinking that when Equius moves out with his rustb100d that I may leave New Jack.

AG: Leave? And go where?

CT:8=D< I am not sure. I may travel to the Eastern Continent again, or perhaps join the Peace Corps.

AG: The Peace Corps?

CT:8=D< Yes. Once you get the application filled out it takes a year to process. Then I’ll be shipped out again just like in the military before.

AG: Will we ever hear from you again?

CT:8=D< I have no idea. They could send me someplace as modern as Western Nehetaly or as remote and isolated as Northern Raffil. It is up to them.

AG: Well… 8efore you leave, I propose we… we should hang out!

CT:8=D< Hang out?

AG: Yes!

CT:8=D< ……why?       

AG: Why not?

AG: You are one of the few trolls that appreciate Old Alternian culture. Honestly, you should see some of these pathetic essays these students write a8out it. Is it ironic that humans have a 8etter grasp and interest in xenointercultural studies than actual troll youth? I had to twist Vriska and Porrim's arms to get them to go to the Alternian Cultural Festival.

AG: Oh!!!!!!!

CT:8=D< Oh no.

AG: We should go there!

CT:8=D< I’d rather not.

AG: Why not?

CT:8=D< I’m not a fan of East New Jack City or the people there.

AG: The students are not that bad! They’ve really cracked down on all the frat boy shenanigans and whatnot.

CT:8=D< It’s not that.

CT:8=D< I just don’t like hippies.

AG: It’s not just hippies there! There's educ8tional people and academic people! And we can eat traditional Alternian and listen to music and oh stop 8eing o8stin8 and just come with me.

CT:8=D< It doesn’t sound like a crowd I would enjoy being around.

CT:8=D< The last thing I want is someone to approach me accusing me of murdering children in the Jangles or saying that all my comrades died for ‘capitalist pig principles’.

AG: So what would you like to do?

CT:8=D< We don’t have to hang out.

AG: We do. :::)

CT:8=D< No.

AG: Yes.

CT:8=D< No.

AG: Yes!

CT:8=D< I am not exactly what you call a stimulating person to be with.

AG: Horuss, stop acting like you’re a thousand years old. We’re 8oth the same age! You’re a8out as much fun as I can 8e!

CT:8=D< Alright then. If you are so determined to ‘hang out’ then you should know I prefer a quiet place to reflect and think. I miss 8eing in woodlands not near the marshes.  

AG: You mean the actual solid ground woods instead of this flooding muck that is slowly invading the Ninth Ward?

CT:8=D< Yes.

CT:8=D< Sometimes I forget you were raised on a farm.

AG: I do miss it sometimes. I used to live in Southern New Jack.

CT:8=D< It is still a nice area. I go to the frog temple in Becquerel. It is tranquil and mostly it is trolls our age and older.

AG: Oh, I’ve 8een to 8ecquerel 8ut never to the temple! Which one is it?

CT:8=D< It’s a more pleasant atmosphere at least.

AG: Then let’s go! ::::)

CT:8=D< What?

CT:8=D< You mean now?

AG: Sure! ::::)

CT:8=D< That’s rather abrupt.

AG: No time like that present and I’m free to do as I want until Thursday. Then I’m stuck grading essays.

CT:8=D< I’m busy right now.

AG: Awwwwwwww… ::::(

CT:8=D< We can go tomorrow if you want.

AG: What a8out your jo8?

CT:8=D< I think I might… take some time off. Just for a little while.

AG: Are you sure you’re okay?

CT:8=D< I’m fine, Aranea.

CT:8=D< I should be done with my repairs by noon tomorrow. We can go then.

AG: Alright then!

AG: You 8etter not cancel at the last minute either!

CT:8=D< I won’t.

CT:8=D< A military man keeps his promises.

AG: See you tomorrow then! ::::D

 --arachnesGlory[AG] ceased trolling criticalTrooper[CT]!—

 

You are grinning from ear to ear. This is going to be interesting. You’re going to Becquerel for the first time and you get to see a temple.

This is a great idea.


	4. history lessons

**== >Aranea: Be Horuss the next day**

 

You are Horuss and you realize now this is a terrible idea. You barely know Aranea. Why did you even agree to this? Why did you even start talking to her? Why did you tell her all those things? It was… pleasant to talk to someone your own age though with the same mentality. Rufioh was never really much for conversation or your interests.

You remember Porrim’s words about you competing with Damara over him and not knowing what to do once you won. You start to actually consider that being the truth, since you can’t easily recall any of Rufioh’s actual interests.

Why did you even want Rufioh…?

Oh yes. Because if you had him, that meant Damara didn’t which meant you finally won. But Damara _did_ have him, or else Aradia wouldn’t be around. You hate to think about Aradia. She smiles like Rufioh and is a social butterfly like he was back in school. You hate the fact that Aradia has won Equius’s vascular pump and their relationships, in some way, is Damara’s final insult against you. 

It’s why you were considering going into the Peace Core. Actually “considering” is less accurate as you had already filled out all the paperwork and just had yet to send it. You haven’t sent it yet and you can’t explain why. You’re hesitating to leave this place even though you want to. 

You call in to the hospital and tell them you’re going to be taking a leave of absence from work for mental health reasons. They tell you not to worry about it. Being a veteran, you sometimes need time on your own. They’re not going to argue with you about that rather than force you to keep working and risk having you ‘snap’.

There’s far too many shootings in NJC as is.

You work on Tavros’s iHusk and by nine it’s finished and in far better shape than anything else Tavros has ever owned. You wrap it in cardboard paper and drop it off at Rufioh’s trailer. You slide it through the mail slot and quickly walk off.

You return to your trailer and freshen up a bit. You change out of your repair clothes and into something a little bit more presentable. Not that you’re concerned with how you look or anything like that. You know Aranea won’t care how you dress. She’s just a peer. That’s all she is to you.

You leave your room wearing a nice shirt and pants. You walk past the kitchen heading to the door.

“Where are you going…?”

You jolt and turn around. Your son looks at you, standing in the kitchen. “ _Equius_! I, uh, didn’t see you… or _hear_ you. When did you get here? Shouldn’t you be at school?”

“Its exams week, father, and I can leave early if I want to.” Equius frowns slightly. “You haven’t answered my question.”

“I… I’m going out.”

“Out?”

“Out.”

Equius raises an eyebrow. “With who?”

“Just… a friend.”

“Aren’t all your friends dead?”

You frown. “Why the sudden interrogation?”

“I just want to make sure you don’t disappear without a trace.” Equius sighs.

“ _Equius,_ ” you groan, “I am _not_ suicidal.”

Equius tilts his head. “I didn’t say that but I can still be concerned about where my PTSD-struck father is going in the middle of the day.”

You sigh. “I’m going to Becquerel with Aranea.”

“Becquerel?” Equius frowns more. “With… Aranea? Do you two even talk?”

“We’ve talked recently!”

“When?”

“Yesterday! What’s with all this inquiry? You’re my son. I should be the one interrogating you about where you’re going and what’s going on in your life.”

Equius smirks. “I already smoked pot and impregnated Aradia. I don’t think asking me what I’m doing at this point will help with anything.”

You grimace. “Well, yes that’s true. Damage already done on that front. Still, it’s odd having you asking all these questions when I’m just going out with a… peer.”

Equius walks to the thermal hull and gets a small jug of milk, “If you ask me, it sounds like a date.”

“It’s not a date!”

“You’re blushing.”

“I am not!” and you quickly leave before this conversation gets any stranger.

It’s not until you arrive at the Serket mobile hive and ring the doorbell that you realize this… _just might_ be a date. Aranea is wearing a black dress striped with cerulean and white stockings.

“Horuss! You look different!”

“Uh… yes.” you mutter, “You look… different as well.”

“I figure since I was going someplace nice, I’d wear something nice.” Aranea shuts the door. “Shall we go?”

“Yes. O-of course.”

Oh gods you must sound like you’re a teenager all over again and this is your first date. You escort Aranea over to your hoverjeep and even open the passenger door for her. You offer a smile, which probably looks more awkward than it does welcoming. Fuck, you should have polished your fangs.

Aranea looks up at you, “Oh, you were always the gentletroll, Horuss.”

“T-thank you, Aranea…” you mutter.

Aranea gets in the car and gives you a toothy grin, “Let’s go! We’re off on an adventure!”

You get in the driver’s side. Oh no. She’s pretty when she smiles. You look to the road and quickly start the vehicle. “Yes; not the most exciting adventure, but at least it’s a break in the monotony.”

It’s an hour to Becquerel so you spend it talking. You discuss politics in the UTC, the historical discrepancies in the records of The Helmsman Atramentous, the NRA movement for trolls to be able to legally purchase firearms in New Jack City, and the military’s influence on foreign policy with nearby Leder and Lew.

You leave the city, heading down winding roads that lead into the mountainous southern region. The sound of car horns fade and the overhead traffic disperses. The tall apartments are replaced by homes placed further apart and horsearoni ranches. You enter the national park on Mt. Hemera and park in the trampled dirt parking lot.

The first thing you do when you get out of the car is breathe in the clean air. You look at the trees cascading down the side of the mountain, seeing the scar of lush green through the massive city-state where the wilderness of southern New Jack begins and the urban industrialization takes over. You can even see the clear waters of Variance Beach, and the haze of smog settled over the Ninth Ward.

Aranea is more fascinated by the crumbling ruins of what were once ancient stone homes and the blue hummingbirds. “Oh! These ruins are beautiful. I bet they’ve already been scoured to death, but its evidence that this was once a really popular Frog Temple.”

“The frog temple was the base of every herptile tribe. Wherever they settled, they would build a frog temple first and then their homes and market around it,” you say, “Most frog temples were changed into churches or shrines during the initial colonization. This temple is built into the mountain though and impossible to renovate.”

Aranea smiles at you. “You know a lot about this place.”

“My father used to take us here all the time when we were younger.”

“Meulin told me your father was a very nice man, and this is proof of it. I bet Kankri wishes your father had been his own.”

“Vantas Senior you mean? Yes, most likely. He wasn’t exactly a pleasant man, but very few of the adults were.”

You walk to the gardens, looking at the older trolls sitting around. Some are reading and writing. There are tour groups talking and sharing lunch.

“I never had the chance to talk to the man.” Aranea says, “The few times I saw him, he was intimidating. Kankri described him as an angry drunk… though Kankri’s memory hasn’t been perfect for years. He’s doing a bit better with the sobering but there are still…”

“Holes.” you say, “And Kankri is incorrect though. Vantas Senior smoked more than he drank. I think Kankri is getting himself and his father confused.”

Aranea sighs. “Most likely; I don’t think Kankri remembers us being friends. His entire memory of high school seems to be… whitewashed.”

“With good cause I think. High school was when Kankri was the very _height_ of his troubles.”

“All high schools are a hotbed of troubles.” Aranea smirks, “No different from the military.”

You chuckle, “With the one benefit high school has over the military being that there’s _less_ criticism on how you look.”

You ascend the hiking trail, heading toward the actual temple. You pass stone pillars topped with frogs, covered with moss and vines. 

“What was it like in the manor? Living with all the adults like that?” Aranea asks.

You shrug. “It was home to me, as I was born there and I enjoyed it. Maybe it was because my father was still alive and we were a family but it… it could be very warm. Very loving.”

“So everyone got along?”

“Oh no. Far from it. As I told you before, the Handmaiden was always incredibly… unfriendly. ‘Addled in the thinkpan’ and what not.”

Far off, you hear the rumble of thunder. You spent so long in the muggy rainy jungles of the Jangles that you can _smell_ a rainstorm on the way.  You see the temple at the top of a large hill covered with trees, carved into the rocky part of the hill like a bas relief. The temple is overgrown with moss and vines. There are two stone carvings at the entrance—a cat and a dog watching all that enter. 

“Why was she ‘addled in the thinkpan’?” Aranea asks.

 

 

“Back on Alternia, the Handmaid was a Haruspex—a soothsayer if you will. They made their predictions by culling beasts and ‘reading’ the entrails and blood. She traveled with a carnival and made predictions, breathing in all sorts of smoke and concoctions to become ‘closer to the spirits’. She spoke what was called an ‘East Beforan’ accent and was considered an ‘exotic foreigner’.”  

You enter the temple, which smells of wet earth. There are only two monks inside, one iguana and one salamander. The walls are made of smooth stone and there are open holes in the ceiling to let the rain in and slide down the walls.

“East Beforan you say?”

You nod. “Yes; they lived on a small isolated island far east of everyone else in the middle of a chaotic sea. They were still loyal to the ways of the old empress and many of them had been culled or exiled.”

“I researched Beforus previously,” Aranea says, “but there’s only scraps of information about it left intact. After her coronation, the Condesce destroyed all she could about her predecessor.”

“I’ve always been a history man myself; after all a military’s man job is to also gather information. I’ve read what few definitive facts are left intact.” you say, “In the era before the rule of the Condesce, there was the Despisal. She ruled a large kingdom called Beforus, not an interstellar empire.”

 

 

You move deeper into the temple, passing by carved pillars of faceless wolves and colossal eating utensils. Aranea observes a statue of the Maiden, who has moss and vines draped on here where there would be hair and clothes.

“The Despisal ran her queendom with the upmost concern for its citizens. Instead of expansion, she focused on the welfare of her citizens.” Aranea continues as she picks a piece off moss off the gigantic statue of the earth goddess, “When the Condesce became of age, the old queen lost to her in the Tyrianblood Imperial Rites.”

 

 

You look at the ceruleanblood’s perfectly manicured hands. They’re soft; the exact opposite of your callused claws. You inhale sharply and add, “The Condesce restructured the country from the ground up and began her mission of rapid imperial expansion, starting with outlawing traditional breeding and making pailing and breeding with the Mother Grub mandatory in order to expand the military.”

“And expand they did.” Aranea says, walking toward a doorway in the far back of the temple, “They conquered all the other queendoms, nations, commonwealths, and countries on the planet and united them all as the Alternian Empire. When there was nothing on the planet left to conquer, they began conquering neighboring planets. Most likely their empire would have expanded beyond galaxies.”

You watch Aranea’s skirt flounce, barely concealing her glute. You wonder if she dressed that way on purpose. “If not for the Starfall, which obliterated the homeplanet and destroyed the ecosystems of several neighboring stars…”

“Where does it go?”

You tear your eyes away from Aranea’s shapely glute. “ _Uh_ …what?”

Aranea points to the doorway, leading to the back of the temple. “That door; where does it go?”

 

 

“I think that leads into the woods, along a hiking path.”

“Have you ever been over here?”

“Not yet.”

“Let’s go then!”

She’s already run off before you can say anything. You take after her smiling.

The door leads you out of the temple, into the rocky backwoods where every other plant is an overgrown weed and the branches of trees are weighed down with thick vines. Aranea ascends another hill with you, looking at the broken statues that have been overtaken by the forest. 

Its only ten minutes into your exploration that it starts to sprinkle warm summer rain. You offer Aranea your jacket. When the rain begins to come down a little heavier, you run for shelter. You find a cave with offering bowels laid outside of it. You both sit inside the small cave and watch the rain fall. You’re both silent, nestled close to each other… for warmth of course. And nothing else. Definitely not.   

Aranea is the first to break the silence,

“The frog temples have always been here on New Earth; even ancient and decayed back when this planet was inhabited by no one else but the herptile tribes. A millennia later, the carapacians crash landed here from their mythical gold and violet twin planets. Three millennia after, humans arrived after generations of aimless drifting through space after the loss of their homeworld. A score or so later, the Alternian colony-planet collapsed in the Harrowing and trolls came to this planet… and here we all are, a century, a score, and eight years later… all together.”

The ceruleanblood holds up her hands and makes a circle with them. She holds them up to her face, as if she’s taking a circular photograph of the area. You can see the lines of age in her face and suddenly, you know why Aranea took this trip. Just like you, she’s exhausted.

“We are all a displaced people on an alien planet….” she whispers, lowering her hands.  

You’re no good at emotional comfort so you say, “We’re not _that_ displaced. Even we can’t understand the comforts of home. We weren’t born on Alternia.”

“True enough…” Aranea sighs, “…I’ve been thinking about getting another job.”

“I thought you loved teaching?”

“I do love it, but there’s a lot of work for little pay. The students are also… less than desirable sometimes.”

“Perhaps you should seek out a professor position?”

“That’s what I was thinking. I need a place where I can write about my passions, instead of trying to drill facts and figures into teenager’s brains just so they can pass one standardized test after the other. No matter how many times I tell the school board that’s not a test of intelligence, they don’t _listen_ …” She sighs again, “No one listens to me there…”      

“You could try NJCC or one of the other colleges.”

“I’m usually in the west anyways for their festivals. Maybe one of the students would know if there are openings.” She looks at you, “Can I ask you something?”

“Of course.”

“Why do you always wear the helmet?”

You frown. “It’s not a pleasant story.”

“Horuss, I was raised on a farm. Seeing your father prep an animal for cooking after it was just walking around in front of you gives you a cast-iron stomach. Rufioh…” She shrugs, “…not so _much_.”

“I can’t blame him. I’ve seen too much gore to ever enjoy eating meat again… smelled too many bodies burning in the field.” You sigh, “This helmet saved my life twice over. The first time was when I got shipped out to Leder. I was young and didn’t know how crafty those rebels were. One of them hit me from behind but the helmet kept my skull from caving in. Spent the next two days wide awake, hiding inside a bombed out loft and shooting at whatever moved in the shadows. When the dust cleared and I found the rest of my team, they tried to remove the helmet but it was stuck…blood and hair made it glued to my skull. They had to get at the wound so we just… _beasted_ it and ripped it off, taking skin with it. I still have the scars from where it healed over.”  

“The second time was… in the Jangles, at the river crossing. I… I’ll always remember the day. It was boiling hot out, at the height of summer heat. The air troops had just sprayed down herbicides and defoliants to get rid of the tree coverage for the Qaennis Jang, uh, what we called ‘the Jangies’. We were crossing the river, the Moikkisl, when… someone tripped a wire. Immediately, the ground exploded under us. I was tossed I’d say… thirty feet from the scene and hit a tree. The impact snapped it in half and it collapsed on top of me. I was pinned… and I could do… nothing. Nothing but lay there and listen to my comrades… my brothers in arms… my _friends_ be slaughtered. The only reason I was spared was because I was hidden in the underbrush, mistaken for dead and unable to move. The helmet was the only reason my head didn’t crack open like a coconut.”  

You mutter, “So… I never take it off.”

“Never?”

You nod. “Not ever.”

“Are the goggles attached to the helmet?”

“Well…no…”

“Can I see you without the goggles?”

“W-why…?”

“I always wondered what your eyes look like.” Aranea takes off her glasses. “I’ll show you mine if you show me yours, Zahhak.”

“As if those glasses hide anything, Serket.” 

You peel the goggles off and Aranea’s smiles widens, “You look more handsome than I thought.”

“Wait until you see me up close…”

You move closer to her and for one glorious moment, everything is still in the southern woods. All you can hear is the sound of rain and gentle thunder in the distance.

* * *

 

You drive back to the mobilehive park and drop Aranea off at her home. It’s still raining, turning the dirt roads to sludge. You return to your mobilehive and find Equius sitting on the couch.

“You’re back.” Equius says, not taking his eyes away from the screen.

“Yes. What are you watching?”

“My Little Horsearoni Moiraillegiance is Magic. How was your trip to Becquerel?”

“Fine. Fine…”

Equius glances at you, “You’re soaked, father.”

“Yes, we got caught up in the rain.”

Equius raises an eyebrow but other than that his face is neutral, “Anything _else_ happen?”

“No, nothing at all. We just talked a bit and then left.”

You enter your hygieneblock to take off your wet clothes and take a dip in the ablution trap when you see yourself in the mirror. Your return to the loungeblock and sigh. “ _Equius_.”

The adolescent blueblood is doing his best not to laugh as he stammer, “Y-yes, father…?”

“How long were you going to let me walk about knowing my shirt was buttoned wrong?”

Equius’s response is to burst out laughing. 


End file.
